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bedlamsbardTitle: Constancy
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bedlamsbard
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia movieverse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Susan puts her arms around his neck. Five vignettes set throughout the Golden Age. Peter/Susan.
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Certain characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to Walden Media. Cut tag from Joseph Addison.
1.
Susan puts her arms around his neck and bites his ear after a moment of what seems to be serious contemplation. Peter nearly jumps out of his seat, which doesn’t appear to have any effect on Susan, who’s planted herself firmly in his lap. He puts an arm tentatively around her waist to support her and Susan makes a pleased sound in his ear. She’s a warm, pleasant armful against him – a little too pleasant, Peter realizes, feeling his blush spread up his cheeks.
“Su, you’re drunk,” he says, swallowing. He can smell the wine on her breath, mixing with the flowery scent of her hair-wash; the fabric of her dress is silky beneath his palm.
Peter looks around the feast hall a little frantically, but no one else seems to be paying any attention to them. It’s late; Edmund and Lucy and some of the court have already gone up to bed, leaving Peter with Susan and the remainder of the court well into their cups. Even Louhanna and Saidi are sprawled out on the floor a little ways away, laughing softly amongst a group of other Royal Guard members.
“Come on, Su,” he says again, and manages to lever her off him so that he can stand up. He leads her down the long, empty corridors to the royal wing, steadying her when she stumbles and nearly falls into him. He walks her into her chambers and up to her bedroom door.
Susan turns toward him, grasping at the front of his tunic with both hands. “Peter,” she breathes. “You should come inside.”
Peter practically trips standing still. “Susan, you need to go in and sleep it off,” he says harshly.
“Are you going to come in with me?” Susan asks, pressing against him, trapping one of his knees between her thighs. She tilts her face up to him expectantly, and Peter swallows hard, his gaze suddenly fixing on her mouth.
“No, I’m not,” he says firmly, and pushes her away when she stands up on tiptoe to try and kiss him. She stumbles back into her door and Peter pushes it open behind her, shoving down his automatic urge to catch her before she sits down hard on the floor. Instead he swings the door shut and locks it with hands that only shake a little bit, then leaves Susan’s rooms as quickly as he can – either to retire to his own bed or jump in the ocean; he hasn’t decided which of the two yet.
2.
Susan puts her arms around his neck and fits her body easily and familiarly against his. Peter puts his hands obligingly on her hips, smiling down at her.
It’s late – or early, depending on one’s perspective – and the ball has already passed the point that determines whether it turns into a rowdy, raucous bash or a quiet, intimate gathering. Unusually for Narnia, it’s the latter this time, and while the wine’s still flowing and the music’s still playing, it’s far more subdued than Peter’s used to.
He and Susan sway back and forth with each other, turning in a slow circle. There’s no real pattern to their steps; they know enough dances to write several books on the subject, beaten into their heads by a series of increasingly strict dancing masters, but this time no one’s watching and they can settle into something easy and comfortable.
Normally he’d have left hours ago, but he’s been unlucky in love lately, the aftermath of not one, not two, but three assassination attempts following his last few romantic assignations. Killing your lovers tends to have a bit of a damper on your sex life; Peter’s noticed it before and he’ll likely notice it again.
“I like having you here,” Susan murmurs to him, her fingers curling into the back of his collar. “You should stay more often.”
“You should hold fewer balls,” Peter notes, bemused.
“You barely show up to the ones I do hold!” Susan protests. “The only way I can be sure of getting you at some of them is to keep holding more and more. You can’t avoid all of them.”
Peter makes to leave her. “Well, after this one I think I’m done for the year –”
Susan takes one arm away from his neck and hits him. “No, you aren’t! Now shut up and keep dancing with me.”
“Well, if you insist,” Peter says, smiling down at her. “And if you’re very lucky, your majesty. I may even get you a drink later.”
She stands up on tiptoe and kisses the edge of his jaw. “Such a gentleman, your majesty.”
“Hardly,” Peter says, but for the moment, he’s more than willing to indulge his sister.
3.
Susan puts her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. Peter turns his head up towards her and grins. “You seem happy,” he observes.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Susan says brightly, pulling his chair back so she can tug him up to his feet. Peter smiles down at her. Her hands are warm around his wrists and her face is bright and happy, turned up towards him with a wide smile.
“That’s not it,” Peter says, bemused. “Did you have a spectacularly good shag last night or something?”
“Peter!” Susan laughs, punching him in the arm.
“Anyone I might know?” he continues.
“Do you think I’d tell you that?” she demands indignantly.
“Was it Mychal or Deran?” Peter says, and Susan hits him again. “Or Eskil?”
“Unlike some of us in this family, I don’t sleep with pirates,” Susan says archly. “Or ex-pirates, as the case may be.”
“Which makes one of us in this family, I think,” Peter says lightly. “So Mychal, then. He is good – clingy afterwards, though.”
“A lady never reveals her secrets,” Susan says, bemused around it. “I shan’t tell you.” She pulls him around the edge of his desk and towards the door. “But it is a beautiful day. Let’s go outside and enjoy it.”
“All right,” Peter agrees, grinning at her. “But it was Mychal, wasn’t it?”
“Peter!” She swats him on their way out the door, and he laughs.
4.
Susan puts her arms around his neck and her head against his shoulder as Peter picks her up. “Peter, I’m tired,” she says, her voice humming against the leather of his jerkin. “Take me home.”
“Anything,” he promises, but she’s already asleep, warm and familiar in his arms. Vajna comes over to him, nearly silent on the soft grass, and kneels down so that Peter can climb into the saddle. The mare turns back towards Narnia and Cair Paravel without being bidden.
Long day, long, bloody day. Peter finally lets himself relax, kissing Susan’s forehead. She sighs a little and snuggles into him, clutching at the short hair at the back of his neck. Gods, it’s been a long day, and hopefully this is the last of it. Hopefully this whole bloody mess is over.
“Home, sire?” Vajna asks quietly.
“Home,” Peter affirms. “Let’s go home.”
5.
Susan puts her arms around his neck and pulls him down towards her. Peter catches himself on the bed and kisses her obligingly, a long, slow, indulgent kind of kiss.
“Mmm,” she says against his lips. “We should stay in bed. Let Edmund take Lucy out and find her bloody White Stag.”
Peter kisses her again, sucking on her lower lip. “You don’t want your wishes?” he asks as one of her hands slips down his back, pulling his shirt up.
“I’ve already got everything I could wish for,” she murmurs. “Come on, Peter. Maybe if we’re late enough Ed and Lu will leave without us.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Peter agrees, and sits up to pull his shirt off over his head. He’s already been out this morning on a training run with one of the army units station here, a three-league run in forty pounds of armor that had left Arn Abedin before daybreak; he’s not looking forward to going out again, even on horseback and not on foot.
Susan slides her hands down the back of his trousers and Peter shivers, then leans down to kiss her again. He shoves the blankets away, off the bed, and runs his fingers lightly down Susan’s bare flesh, watching her arch up towards him.
“You have far too many clothes on,” she says, and he laughs a little, shifting until he can get his trousers and his smallclothes off, settling back between Susan’s legs. She slides one foot up his thigh and Peter ducks his head to suck a kiss into her neck.
Then Lucy bangs on the door and shouts, “Aren’t you two coming? We’re going to lose all the daylight!”
“We should have strangled that girl at birth!” Susan hisses in Peter’s ear.
“Give us half an hour, Lu,” Peter calls.
“Peter!” she protests, and Susan echoes it. “You beast!”
“I could have said fifteen minutes!” he protests. “Or five!”
From farther away, his voice muffled by distance and the closed door, Edmund yells, “You girls stay here, I’ll just go catch the stag myself, shall I?”
“But Peter’s only just gotten his pants off!” Susan exclaims, her voice carrying over Lucy’s protests, which turn abruptly into a strangled squawk.
“Just for that –” Peter says, sitting up and reaching for his trousers.
“Peter!” Susan says, pushing herself up on one elbow.
He leans over to kiss her. “I’ll make it up to you tonight,” he promises, and Susan catches the back of his head in one hand and pulls him back in.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she says, and then, “Find me my clothes, won’t you? This damned White Stag of Lucy’s had better be worth it.”
Author:
bedlamsbardFandom: Chronicles of Narnia movieverse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Susan puts her arms around his neck. Five vignettes set throughout the Golden Age. Peter/Susan.
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Certain characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to Walden Media. Cut tag from Joseph Addison.
1.
Susan puts her arms around his neck and bites his ear after a moment of what seems to be serious contemplation. Peter nearly jumps out of his seat, which doesn’t appear to have any effect on Susan, who’s planted herself firmly in his lap. He puts an arm tentatively around her waist to support her and Susan makes a pleased sound in his ear. She’s a warm, pleasant armful against him – a little too pleasant, Peter realizes, feeling his blush spread up his cheeks.
“Su, you’re drunk,” he says, swallowing. He can smell the wine on her breath, mixing with the flowery scent of her hair-wash; the fabric of her dress is silky beneath his palm.
Peter looks around the feast hall a little frantically, but no one else seems to be paying any attention to them. It’s late; Edmund and Lucy and some of the court have already gone up to bed, leaving Peter with Susan and the remainder of the court well into their cups. Even Louhanna and Saidi are sprawled out on the floor a little ways away, laughing softly amongst a group of other Royal Guard members.
“Come on, Su,” he says again, and manages to lever her off him so that he can stand up. He leads her down the long, empty corridors to the royal wing, steadying her when she stumbles and nearly falls into him. He walks her into her chambers and up to her bedroom door.
Susan turns toward him, grasping at the front of his tunic with both hands. “Peter,” she breathes. “You should come inside.”
Peter practically trips standing still. “Susan, you need to go in and sleep it off,” he says harshly.
“Are you going to come in with me?” Susan asks, pressing against him, trapping one of his knees between her thighs. She tilts her face up to him expectantly, and Peter swallows hard, his gaze suddenly fixing on her mouth.
“No, I’m not,” he says firmly, and pushes her away when she stands up on tiptoe to try and kiss him. She stumbles back into her door and Peter pushes it open behind her, shoving down his automatic urge to catch her before she sits down hard on the floor. Instead he swings the door shut and locks it with hands that only shake a little bit, then leaves Susan’s rooms as quickly as he can – either to retire to his own bed or jump in the ocean; he hasn’t decided which of the two yet.
2.
Susan puts her arms around his neck and fits her body easily and familiarly against his. Peter puts his hands obligingly on her hips, smiling down at her.
It’s late – or early, depending on one’s perspective – and the ball has already passed the point that determines whether it turns into a rowdy, raucous bash or a quiet, intimate gathering. Unusually for Narnia, it’s the latter this time, and while the wine’s still flowing and the music’s still playing, it’s far more subdued than Peter’s used to.
He and Susan sway back and forth with each other, turning in a slow circle. There’s no real pattern to their steps; they know enough dances to write several books on the subject, beaten into their heads by a series of increasingly strict dancing masters, but this time no one’s watching and they can settle into something easy and comfortable.
Normally he’d have left hours ago, but he’s been unlucky in love lately, the aftermath of not one, not two, but three assassination attempts following his last few romantic assignations. Killing your lovers tends to have a bit of a damper on your sex life; Peter’s noticed it before and he’ll likely notice it again.
“I like having you here,” Susan murmurs to him, her fingers curling into the back of his collar. “You should stay more often.”
“You should hold fewer balls,” Peter notes, bemused.
“You barely show up to the ones I do hold!” Susan protests. “The only way I can be sure of getting you at some of them is to keep holding more and more. You can’t avoid all of them.”
Peter makes to leave her. “Well, after this one I think I’m done for the year –”
Susan takes one arm away from his neck and hits him. “No, you aren’t! Now shut up and keep dancing with me.”
“Well, if you insist,” Peter says, smiling down at her. “And if you’re very lucky, your majesty. I may even get you a drink later.”
She stands up on tiptoe and kisses the edge of his jaw. “Such a gentleman, your majesty.”
“Hardly,” Peter says, but for the moment, he’s more than willing to indulge his sister.
3.
Susan puts her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. Peter turns his head up towards her and grins. “You seem happy,” he observes.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Susan says brightly, pulling his chair back so she can tug him up to his feet. Peter smiles down at her. Her hands are warm around his wrists and her face is bright and happy, turned up towards him with a wide smile.
“That’s not it,” Peter says, bemused. “Did you have a spectacularly good shag last night or something?”
“Peter!” Susan laughs, punching him in the arm.
“Anyone I might know?” he continues.
“Do you think I’d tell you that?” she demands indignantly.
“Was it Mychal or Deran?” Peter says, and Susan hits him again. “Or Eskil?”
“Unlike some of us in this family, I don’t sleep with pirates,” Susan says archly. “Or ex-pirates, as the case may be.”
“Which makes one of us in this family, I think,” Peter says lightly. “So Mychal, then. He is good – clingy afterwards, though.”
“A lady never reveals her secrets,” Susan says, bemused around it. “I shan’t tell you.” She pulls him around the edge of his desk and towards the door. “But it is a beautiful day. Let’s go outside and enjoy it.”
“All right,” Peter agrees, grinning at her. “But it was Mychal, wasn’t it?”
“Peter!” She swats him on their way out the door, and he laughs.
4.
Susan puts her arms around his neck and her head against his shoulder as Peter picks her up. “Peter, I’m tired,” she says, her voice humming against the leather of his jerkin. “Take me home.”
“Anything,” he promises, but she’s already asleep, warm and familiar in his arms. Vajna comes over to him, nearly silent on the soft grass, and kneels down so that Peter can climb into the saddle. The mare turns back towards Narnia and Cair Paravel without being bidden.
Long day, long, bloody day. Peter finally lets himself relax, kissing Susan’s forehead. She sighs a little and snuggles into him, clutching at the short hair at the back of his neck. Gods, it’s been a long day, and hopefully this is the last of it. Hopefully this whole bloody mess is over.
“Home, sire?” Vajna asks quietly.
“Home,” Peter affirms. “Let’s go home.”
5.
Susan puts her arms around his neck and pulls him down towards her. Peter catches himself on the bed and kisses her obligingly, a long, slow, indulgent kind of kiss.
“Mmm,” she says against his lips. “We should stay in bed. Let Edmund take Lucy out and find her bloody White Stag.”
Peter kisses her again, sucking on her lower lip. “You don’t want your wishes?” he asks as one of her hands slips down his back, pulling his shirt up.
“I’ve already got everything I could wish for,” she murmurs. “Come on, Peter. Maybe if we’re late enough Ed and Lu will leave without us.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Peter agrees, and sits up to pull his shirt off over his head. He’s already been out this morning on a training run with one of the army units station here, a three-league run in forty pounds of armor that had left Arn Abedin before daybreak; he’s not looking forward to going out again, even on horseback and not on foot.
Susan slides her hands down the back of his trousers and Peter shivers, then leans down to kiss her again. He shoves the blankets away, off the bed, and runs his fingers lightly down Susan’s bare flesh, watching her arch up towards him.
“You have far too many clothes on,” she says, and he laughs a little, shifting until he can get his trousers and his smallclothes off, settling back between Susan’s legs. She slides one foot up his thigh and Peter ducks his head to suck a kiss into her neck.
Then Lucy bangs on the door and shouts, “Aren’t you two coming? We’re going to lose all the daylight!”
“We should have strangled that girl at birth!” Susan hisses in Peter’s ear.
“Give us half an hour, Lu,” Peter calls.
“Peter!” she protests, and Susan echoes it. “You beast!”
“I could have said fifteen minutes!” he protests. “Or five!”
From farther away, his voice muffled by distance and the closed door, Edmund yells, “You girls stay here, I’ll just go catch the stag myself, shall I?”
“But Peter’s only just gotten his pants off!” Susan exclaims, her voice carrying over Lucy’s protests, which turn abruptly into a strangled squawk.
“Just for that –” Peter says, sitting up and reaching for his trousers.
“Peter!” Susan says, pushing herself up on one elbow.
He leans over to kiss her. “I’ll make it up to you tonight,” he promises, and Susan catches the back of his head in one hand and pulls him back in.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she says, and then, “Find me my clothes, won’t you? This damned White Stag of Lucy’s had better be worth it.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 06:06 pm (UTC)Also, I am somewhat disturbed/amused by Susan and Peter sharing boyfriends
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 08:40 pm (UTC)After the swan princess gig, yeah, I'm guessing. (Although not necessarily -- could be a different incident, since the swan princess thing also has other not so fun problems going down during it.)
They don't share boyfriends, Peter just sleeps around. *facepalm*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-06 10:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 03:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 03:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-07 03:46 pm (UTC)